When Wisdom Becomes a Brand — Where Does Exchange End and Appropriation Begin?

When Knowledge Acquires a Name, a Logo and a Price

When a teaching rooted in a living relationship is turned into something for sale, its meaning for the buyer can change in just a few lines. A practice embedded in relationships among teachers, students, families and places may acquire a new name, a commercial offer and the promise of a recognisable result. The buyer sees a service that can be booked. The community from which the practice comes may see only a small fragment of what was once an entire way of transmitting knowledge. Yet the difference between these two perspectives is not, in itself, proof of appropriation. We must first establish who developed the product, whose knowledge it represents and who has the authority to set its terms. [1][6]

Price alone is not decisive. Tradition-bearers can legitimately charge for their work: time, knowledge, space, preparation and responsibility are not free. Conversely, a free social-media post can circulate images of a ceremony against the wishes of its custodians, even when no viewer pays anything. Commercialisation therefore neither begins nor ends at the till. The question is whether the new presentation also transfers to someone else the power to speak for a tradition, determine its value and retain the benefits. [2][3][7]

UNESCO's 2003 Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage emphasises that communities, groups and, in some cases, individuals recognise such heritage as their own and constantly recreate it in response to their environment and history. This corrects the notion that there is a single unchanging, museum-like form of wisdom that must be frozen for all time. A tradition can travel, change and take on new forms through the decisions of its own bearers. If a community itself develops a contemporary course or service, that change is not inherently a betrayal of the tradition. [1]

The problem begins when someone uses this capacity for change as an excuse to exclude the original custodians from decisions. A name may become a commercial advantage, a historical reputation an apparent guarantee of quality, and a story of origins a sales device. Meanwhile, the people whose authority gives that story its force may have no access to contracts or information about how their knowledge is used, or any opportunity to correct a misrepresentation. It is possible to cite a tradition respectfully on a website while effectively ignoring the people to whom the citation refers. [6][7]

Across this series, we have examined different forms of this tension: changes in presentation, new promises, the construction of authority, and questions of evidence and rights. The final standard cannot simply be “old is good, new is bad” or “selling is exploitation”. The harder question is this: after knowledge has been commercially repackaged, who still has the right to decide what may be made from it?

Exchange Is Not the Same as Appropriation

Cross-cultural contact has never been merely an exchange of goods. Stories, expressions, healing knowledge, music, technologies and ideas have travelled with it. Translation can bring a teaching to new audiences; encounters between traditions can create something that did not previously exist. If we labelled every change or borrowing as appropriation in advance, we would deny precisely the living character that UNESCO recognises as a feature of intangible heritage. We would also deny people within communities the ability to choose a different future for their own practices. [1][2]

In a 2006 article, researcher Richard A. Rogers distinguished cultural exchange, cultural dominance, cultural exploitation and transculturation. This typology helps us distinguish encounters shaped by different power relations. Through the concept of transculturation, Rogers also warns against imagining cultures as sealed, unchanging possessions. These are analytical concepts, not a legal test; here we rely on the publicly accessible abstract of his work. [10]

In a fair exchange, participants can meaningfully answer what they are sharing and under which conditions. Dominance may arise when the more powerful side imposes the terms of cultural contact without the less powerful side being able to decide on equal terms. Exploitation is a particularly apt concern when someone draws prestige or economic benefit from others' knowledge while excluding its custodians from decisions or agreed benefits. Real cases, however, may be mixed. Collaboration can be useful and unequal at the same time; an agreement may exist but cover only a limited purpose that a later user exceeds. [10][2]

The decisive factor is not simply the identity of the person using the knowledge. An outsider can cooperate under conditions set by its custodians and respect them. A member of the same community, on the other hand, may act against shared rules or privately sell something without the agreement of other custodians. UNESCO also warns of the risks of inappropriate profit-taking and harmful commercialisation; that warning alone does not prove a violation by any particular provider. [4]

This is the first concluding principle: appropriation does not automatically follow from cultural difference, change or profit. Its signs must be assessed through concrete power relationships, the scope of permission, control over representation and the ability of custodians to draw a boundary. When someone claims to know the only “authentic” version of another people's heritage, we should first ask who gave them that authority. [2][6][7]

Who Sets the Terms — and Who Can Say No?

Acknowledging an origin may be an initial sign of respect, but it does not settle the central question of consent. Naming a community in a footnote does not replace an agreement with the relevant custodians about whether a specific practice may be filmed, taught, marketed or presented as officially authorised. It is rather like the difference between publicly thanking someone for an idea and agreeing that the idea may be sold in their name. Acknowledgement does not tell us what was permitted. [2][11]

In their fourth principle, UNESCO's 2015 Ethical Principles for Safeguarding Intangible Cultural Heritage call for transparent collaboration, dialogue, negotiation and consultation conditioned on the free, prior, sustained and informed consent of the heritage-bearers concerned. The word sustained is especially important: ethical consent is not automatically a one-off tick in a box authorising every future use. Purpose, audience, technology and commercial scale can change, and with them the matters that need to be discussed again. These are ethical principles within the safeguarding of heritage, not a directly enforceable universal rule for every contemporary workshop. [2]

Articles 11 and 31 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples recognise Indigenous peoples' rights concerning the maintenance, protection and development of cultural expressions, and the maintenance, control and protection of cultural heritage and traditional knowledge. This is no marginal qualification: it recognises that cultural use is also a matter of the rights of the people concerned. Yet the declaration should not be mistaken for an identical, enforceable individual licence in every country, nor should its provisions be transferred indiscriminately to any cultural activity. Legal protection depends on the particular circumstances and applicable law. [5]

The difficulty deepens when knowledge has no single owner or representative. In some contexts, different families, places or related communities share responsibilities for it. Local Contexts' TK Multiple Communities Label specifically allows such plural connections and responsibilities to be expressed. The consent of one practitioner or contracting party therefore does not, by itself, establish authority to speak for all other custodians or approve every type of use. But outsiders should not appoint themselves arbiters of who the “real” representatives are without understanding how those communities make decisions. [12]

The right to say no does not always mean prohibiting learning altogether. It may concern filming a particular ceremony, disclosing restricted knowledge, using symbols in advertising or claiming to be an authorised healer. In other circumstances, use may be permitted subject to proper attribution, reciprocal cooperation or benefit-sharing. Local Contexts' labelling system draws attention to precisely these distinctions between permitted uses rather than reducing everything to “public” or “private”. [11][20]

Responsible exchange thus requires more than asking, “Where does this come from?” We must also ask who may answer questions about its use, who may amend an agreement, and who may refuse that use. Without those answers, cultural respect may be little more than an aesthetic impression. [2][12]

Who Receives the Income — and Who Bears the Responsibility?

Debates about commercialisation often become oversimplified precisely when money enters the picture. If a provider charges for a course, that alone does not tell us whether anyone is being exploited. If knowledge is transmitted for free, that alone does not establish respect. Commercial activity can support practitioners' livelihoods, pay for spaces and enable the transmission of a tradition to younger generations. In the annex to UNESCO Decision 4.COM 6, proposed guidance recognises that commercial activities may support heritage transmission, while communities should remain their principal beneficiaries and the cultural vitality of the practice should not be endangered. [3][17]

A revealing example is the UMIYAC code, drafted and signed in 2000 by affiliated healers of the yagé tradition in the Colombian Amazon. The code explicitly states that it speaks only for the participating custodians of the yagé tradition in Colombia, not for all Amazonian peoples. Its signatories explain that material circumstances have changed: travelling, obtaining plants and carrying out their work require resources. Accordingly, they allow outside visitors to be charged for obtaining and preparing plants, transport and compensation for services; work for their own communities, by contrast, is described as free and voluntary, with gifts being voluntary where offered. [9]

The same code expressly commits its signatories not to participate in the trade in yagé or sell raw or prepared yagé for distribution to non-Indigenous people; it envisages use within their own ceremonial practices. That distinction matters more than any slogan claiming that ancient wisdom is “priceless” and must therefore never be paid for. The signatories themselves distinguish survival and fair compensation for work from forms of trade they consider to exceed the legitimate boundaries of their practice. These are terms set by them, not editorial instructions to every tradition in the world. [9]

In a 2019 declaration published on UMIYAC's website and also signed by representatives of other Amazonian organisations, the authors oppose what they regard as unauthorised representation and commercialisation of ceremonies. Their position is a relevant primary voice from the custodians concerned, but it does not in itself constitute a legal judgment that every outside practitioner acts unlawfully. Assessing the conduct of a particular company would require further evidence about its activities, permissions, applicable law and any relevant proceedings. [8]

Genuine fairness is not just a percentage on an invoice, either. What matters includes whether a community has the resources to sustain its knowledge, who bears health or environmental risks, who handles complaints and who ensures that a practice is presented in its proper context. If the practitioner is paid but the community loses control over the use of its name, a fair price does not resolve everything. If a community receives funds but cannot stop harmful representation, the question of power remains open. [2][3][19]

In 2022, when considering the safeguarding of the Qiang New Year festival in China, UNESCO's committee encouraged income-generating activities, entrepreneurship and sustainable tourism, but with respect for the festival's cultural functions and benefits for local communities. This was a recommendation concerning a specific heritage practice, not evidence that the proposed economic model had already succeeded or would suit every tradition. [18]

When Does “Inspiration” Erase the Source?

Commercial narratives are fond of the word inspiration. Used honestly, it may mean that a contemporary creator found an idea in another tradition. But it can also conceal something more: that a person has adopted the form, name or reputation of a particular practice, renamed it, and then told customers that they themselves are its decisive discoverer or only authoritative interpreter. In such a case, the problem is not necessarily innovation; it is the removal of other people from the story of how the innovation came about. [6][7]

WIPO explains that traditional cultural expressions can, in some circumstances, be protected through conventional intellectual-property tools, including copyright and trademarks, but those systems do not resolve every issue of collective origin and use. A story, dance, motif, ceremony or mode of transmitting knowledge may have a collective history, while intellectual-property systems often define protected subject matter and rights holders differently. This does not mean that every use of such an expression is unlawful, or that every general idea requires an exclusive licence. It means that legal permissibility and ethical appropriateness are not necessarily the same assessment. [6][7]

Attribution matters, but even a story of origins can become a sales prop. A photograph, a tradition's name or a brief mention of a teacher can create an impression of authenticity without explaining who approved the use, what training the practitioner received or whether they are entitled to use a particular title. The signatories of the declaration published on UMIYAC's website in 2019 explicitly oppose what they regard as unauthorised claims to be healers and the offering of ceremonies. Those statements document the position of the signatory organisations; they are not a court finding against all providers mentioned. [8]

The question is not whether someone may create something new. It is whether they are honest about what is theirs, what they have borrowed and whose consent they have obtained. If a practice was developed through collaboration, that can be an important part of its value. If a community's contribution is reduced to decoration, its authority is invoked while its actual voice is lost. This is why the appropriation of the power to name and interpret a practice can matter as much as direct financial gain. [2][6]

Criticism must remain rigorous about evidence. Without examining actual contracts, trademark registrations, permissions and conduct, it is not justified to declare a particular organisation legally in breach merely because of the tone of its advertising. We can, however, demand clear questions and answers and assess whether a provider invokes cultural authority without showing the basis for that authority. The burden of substantiation falls especially on those who turn a claim of authority into a commercial promise. [7]

Why Publicly Accessible Does Not Mean Free for All Uses

Digital accessibility often creates the impression that knowledge is available to anyone without restrictions. That can foster the misleading idea that any material may therefore be freely copied, adapted and sold. Yet a publicly accessible recording is not automatically permission to reproduce it commercially. Equally, the fact that a community regards a particular expression as its own does not mean that it has identical legal remedies in every country. An honest discussion requires us to distinguish access, cultural protocols, copyright and other specific rules. [7][11]

The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples sets out important standards concerning Indigenous peoples. The Nagoya Protocol addresses access to genetic resources, the use of associated traditional knowledge and the sharing of benefits: Article 5 concerns benefit-sharing, while Article 7 concerns measures for access to such knowledge in accordance with domestic law and the rights of the communities concerned. Its provisions on prior consent cannot simply be applied as a general rule about fees for every yoga course, meditation app or cultural symbol. [5][13][14]

The WIPO treaty adopted in 2024 on intellectual property, genetic resources and associated traditional knowledge likewise primarily concerns disclosure of origin in certain patent applications. It does not establish a universal prohibition on brands associated with ancient practices. At the time of a renewed check on 16 October 2026, the official WIPO Lex treaty register did not yet show the treaty as having entered into force. Under its provisions, it enters into force three months after the fifteenth qualifying instrument of ratification or accession. Its status must be checked again before actual online publication. [15][16]

There are also ways of acting responsibly between formal legal rights and everyday practice. Local Contexts enables communities to use Traditional Knowledge Labels to communicate origins, protocols, restrictions and particular kinds of permitted use. One such label allows a community itself to indicate openness to commercialisation on its own terms. The label is not a copyright licence for everyone, and an outside user cannot simply apply it on behalf of the knowledge holders. [11][20]

Similarly, the CARE Principles developed in the field of Indigenous data governance emphasise collective benefit, authority to control, responsibility and ethics. Their relevance here lies primarily in asking who makes decisions about the collection, representation and reuse of data concerning communities. Their scope, however, is data governance: they do not directly regulate all cultural products. The boundaries of each instrument must remain visible, even where they point towards a shared concern — who controls subsequent use. [19]

Legal uncertainty must therefore not become an excuse for false certainty in either direction. It is not true that everything lacking explicit legal protection automatically lacks cultural boundaries. Nor is it true that raising an ethical concern in an editorial article can by itself make a use criminal or unlawful. Between these exaggerations lies room for decisions that are documented, made in good faith and open to scrutiny. [6][7]

R15-E01 — Seven distinct frameworks — why they must not be mistaken for one law

How to read: This is an editorial synthesis of the cited primary and institutional materials, not evidence of wrongdoing by any particular brand. Bearers’ actual authority and the limited scope of each instrument remain central. Recheck the live WIPO treaty status before publication. [1][2][5][8][9][11][13][14][15][16][19]

What Might Fair Exchange Look Like?

Fair exchange cannot be reduced to a single universal form. But it does require answers to questions that a polished slogan cannot settle. First: who are the relevant knowledge holders, and why is the person negotiating authorised to speak for this particular body of knowledge? Where several communities or authorities are involved, it is necessary to examine whether the agreement recognises their differences and how the decision was reached. One organisation's name is not automatically everyone's signature; yet outsiders are no more entitled to declare that organisation's representatives illegitimate without evidence. [2][12]

Second: what exactly is permitted? Teaching a small group is not the same as advertising globally; filming a ceremony is not the same as attending privately; public explanation is not the same as selling an official certificate. An agreement that sets out purpose, permitted scope, how changes may be made and the conditions for stopping use gives knowledge holders more influence than a generic claim of being “inspired by tradition”. For restricted knowledge, declining a particular use may also be the appropriate answer. [2][11][20]

Third: what benefits remain where the knowledge lives? Sharing benefits may involve direct payment, lasting opportunities for teachers, resources for transmitting language and practices, appropriate representation of communities or support for their own institutions. There is no basis for a universal “fair percentage”: benefits may be monetary or non-monetary and must be assessed in the context of a particular agreement. What matters is that the agreement reflects actual needs and that beneficiaries can help decide what counts as a benefit to them. [3][17][19]

Fourth: who is accountable when something goes wrong? If a provider promises health outcomes, uses protected data or creates the impression of official traditional authority, it must be clear who is responsible for verifying and correcting those claims. If material continues to circulate after a collaboration ends, there should be a way to respond. Transparency also requires an honest description of a programme's limitations, not merely an attribution buried in the fine print. [2][7]

Fifth: can the custodians continue developing the knowledge on their own terms? Responsible cooperation is not an arrangement in which an external brand buys a story once and becomes its permanent interpreter. Living heritage changes; the right to shape that change should not belong solely to whoever controls the commercial channel. Local Contexts Labels demonstrate the possibility of more differentiated cultural protocols; CARE, within its field of data governance, likewise underscores collective benefit and authority over decisions. [1][11][19]

These questions form an editorial test of accountability, not a legal checklist in which a single positive answer establishes fairness. In real circumstances, communities' interests may diverge, consent is not always straightforward, and a cooperative arrangement can prove less beneficial than expected. The purpose of these questions is not to eliminate uncertainty, but to establish whether the word respect is backed by a relationship in which the knowledge holders can actually make decisions.

Who Will Still Have a Voice When the Product Is Gone?

A brand may last only a few seasons. The knowledge from which it draws its reputation may survive much longer, yet its transmission may be fragile: languages, places, conditions for learning and the people who sustain it can disappear. For the former, market success is what matters. For the latter, the question is whether the custodians will still be able to carry on their work after the commercial cycle ends. This is not a nostalgic rejection of modernity. It is a question of whose future the plan includes. [1][17]

When discussing appropriation, it can be tempting to look for a simple culprit: an outside buyer, a Western entrepreneur, a local intermediary or someone who charged too much. Such a label may point to a genuine inequality, but it is not a substitute for evidence. Power may lie with a brand, a platform, a contract, an exclusive claim to authority or the position of someone who can decide on behalf of others. It is equally important to acknowledge that communities do not speak with a single voice and may themselves choose commercial collaboration. [2][4][12]

This series has traced different moments of transformation: a practice can become a service, the interpretation of knowledge can become commercial authority, and a promise can move away from both evidence and the relationships from which it draws its prestige. Yet none of those steps provides a final answer on its own. Some adaptations can be creative and beneficial. Others become problematic when someone assumes that publicly acknowledging an origin relieves them of the need to ask the custodians' permission or respect their boundaries. [3][6][11]

For that reason, the final answer cannot be a demand that cultures stop exchanging knowledge. Openness can express respect, but it can also become an empty word if a community is expected to accept every possible use of its heritage. Freedom to learn is not the same as an unlimited right to use another people's title, symbol, reputation or restricted knowledge to establish one's own commercial power. Nor does fair payment fix everything if the people transmitting the knowledge lose their say in decisions. [2][5][9]

Fair exchange becomes apparent when a relationship can continue beyond the sales slogan: when knowledge holders are recognised, can participate and refuse, have a say over access, and receive the benefits that were agreed. When they do not have to prove their worth by having someone else turn their wisdom into a product. And when those who profit from the exchange are willing to answer the uncomfortable question of what they will leave behind. [2][3][11][19]

The boundary between exchange and appropriation does not simply lie at the point of sale: it is crossed when others set the terms for a tradition while excluding its custodians from decisions. Responsibility does not require wisdom to remain untouched. It requires its custodians to remain genuine participants, both when their wisdom becomes commercially successful and when the brand disappears.